


The Highest Price to Pay

by dasakuryo



Series: heart of winter fires [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Angst, Cassian Andor-centric, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 01:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12222840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasakuryo/pseuds/dasakuryo
Summary: Cassian has first-hand experience on how much a leap of faith can cost.





	The Highest Price to Pay

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a fill for thefulcrumcaptain's Fulcrum Fridays #5 prompt _Ambush_. Hope you enjoy!

"It's solid."

Cassian shifts uncomfortable in his seat. He presses his lips together in a frown, holding his interlocutor's gaze. He glances swiftly around out of the corners of his eye before replying, "how reliable?"

He takes a spoonful of the porridge. The young man before him does the same. A few clinks, and then he answers back, "as reliable as it gets," he pauses and raises an eyebrow. Cassian fills in what's left unsaid, _as reliable as it gets when working undercover on an Imperial facility while being cut-out from the Alliance_.

Cassian pushes the food around with his spoon before biting the inside of his cheek. He feels his fingers tensing around the slim steel handle. The young man sitting across him clears his throat. He expects an answer, a confirmation they're going to proceed with the plan he's crafted. And still, Cassian can't bring himself to nod—

The intel is solid. The intel is as reliable as one could get while working undercover, surrounded by the enemy and the ever-looming threat of being discovered and subsequently captured, in all likelihood to be tortured for information and later killed. There's no way they can check up on the reliability of that information to fend off any potential dangers. There's no warrant whatsoever this isn't a trap laid up for them to fall right into it—

"I trust my source. I _believe_ him."

It's going in blind and hope for the best. It's taking a leap of faith when every rational part of his brain is telling him to do the exact _opposite_.

"It's an _Admiral_ ," the older boy says off-handedly before swallowing down the spoonful of food he's been munching. His grey eyes seem to sparkle, and Cassian thinks there's a shadow of a smile playing about his lips.

Cassian nearly has to force the food down his throat. He twiddles his fingers, scrunching the napkin in his clenched hand.

An Admiral that will be having a private meeting with the General overseeing the cadets training in this corner of the Outer Rim. A meeting that will be taking place barely a week after the Senate had approved to allocate millions of credits to strengthen militarianism all over Imperial territory —though the proper terminology would have been Imperial-controlled planets and systems, of course.

They can get the holocube with the recording of every word that will be spoken in that meeting. They can infiltrate the Admiral's vessel and get upcoming targets, imperial codes of high security to forge scandocs, retrieve shipment routes… virtually any information they can hijack from that ship—

The prospect is tempting and promising. If they succeed, it will prove highly beneficial for the Alliance and their fight against the Empire.

And yet, what if—

"It's a chance in a million, we have to take it," his partner —his _superior_ in this mission, to be exact— insists.

Cassian rubs his hand over his face. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, a heavy sigh blossoms in his chest. He lets it out in a steady, long puff. He's been doing this for far longer than he has, after all. It's his superior, shouldn't he be grateful he's asking and even willing to consider his take on all this? If he thinks they got a chance, if this would benefit the Alliance, what can exactly he say to argue against this plan? All he can resort to is the potential threat of it being a trap, the potential danger this plan brings forth—

Key word being potential.

Cassian can't be sure it's a trap, as he can't be sure it isn't one either.

Valens has no other support, no other back-up than him. If he refuses, he cannot make the plan work on his own.

Valens thinks it's worth taking the risk. Besides, how sure is Cassian that there is any risk at all?

* * *

 

He should have known better.

He should have trusted his instincts.

They were _ambushed_.

Someone must have been keeping tabs on them. Or they figured out rebels might have infiltrated the facility—

He should have known that a simple belief wasn't enough. Not in war.

Why—

Valens stopped walking a long time ago. Cassian's arms and shoulder hurt from the effort of dragging him. Valens is no longer putting one foot before the other as Cassian supports him. His partner's feet have been dragging over the mud more than anything else. A sharp, stabbing pain sweeps over Cassian's side, almost numbing, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut and blow out a sigh.

Cassian can't hear the stomping of heavy boots, nor the voices distorted by helmet comms. He halts, trying to catch his breath as he lowers Valens' arm from his shoulder and lets him lean on the tree as gently as his faltering strength allows him to. He wipes of the sweat beading on his face with the back of his hand. Still panting, he looks at Valens.

He's clutching his side, the darkened cloth shielded from his gaze by his trembling hand. The color is quickly fading from his face, a hoarse dry sound each time his chest swells. A spine-chilling sound that makes Cassian's blood freeze in his veins every time his partner tries to suck in a breath.

"Cassian—"

"We're close, we're almost there," he cuts in, before he even gets to finish whatever he thought about saying.

When Cassian leans forward to hoist him up again, Valens clutches his wrist so tightly that he might as well stop his blood flow. His eyelids flutter before he fixes his steely eyes on him.

"Leave."

Cassian clutches his arm even tighter.

"I'm not leaving you behind," they've almost reached the ship; he won't let Valens give in now. The 'troopers are far, they can make it. They _have to_ make it. Cassian doesn't even want his mind to dwell on any other possibility.

Not now.

Not today.

Not ever.

Cassian doesn't wait for an answer. He pulls Valen's right arm over his shoulders and drags him along with him, trudging as hastily as he can through the thick vegetation that both shields them from sight and slows down their escape.

Valens slim built and Cassian's slightly shorter height make the task easier. A seventeen year old trudging to the safety of a rebel ship with his twenty-something teammate on his back after the mission went south. They've lost the 'troopers, he can't hear them anywhere near them.

They will be fine.

They will make it to the ship and then off-world.

They will make the jump to light speed, he will patch-up Valens and they will return to the safety of a rebel cell base.

Cassian won't have it any other way. Because if all that doesn't happen then it will mean—

A shiver climbs up his back. He speeds ahead as fast as he can carrying the extra weight. His gaze flickers upwards, he recognizes that impossibly tall tree with the damaged, scorched trunk. They're barely ten minutes away—

It's then when he hears it—

A familiar, eerie and heavy clank.

 _A walker_.

The protection of the thick vegetation has suddenly evaporated into thin air. He grinds his teeth together and yanks Valens better on his shoulders. The vantage point of the walker's height… they will be immediately spotted— not even the distance would be able to hide them—

Cassian has no choice. He has to run with his teammate in tow, and _keep running_.

The pain stabs his side, his legs, knocks the air out of his lungs. He can hear his heart thumping in his ears and the tight knot clutching his throat. He trips several times, but somehow manages to keep his precarious balance and keeps speeding forward. Over his heart beating in his ears, over the rustle and creaking of the forest around him, Cassian thinks he can hear the laboured breathing of Valens turn into uneven gasps.

He winces, whines at the effort. A pointy rock makes his feet balance on air. His momentum broken. They meet the ground with a thud. Before his brain has even registered having fallen, his hand is already reaching out for the grey felt of Valens uniform and yanking it towards him. Valens groans.

Cassian gaze fixes for a second in him and his heart sinks. He's pale, paler than he was moments ago. Whatever strength he's left is quickly ebbing away with each ragged exhale. His eyes are barely open.

"Cassian—I need you to—"

"I am not going to leave you behind."

Cassian has read enough reports to know what will happen to him if he doesn't succumb to his wounds. And Cassian knows that blaster shot won't kill him, he knows the Imperials will tend to his wounds to deal with him later. Cassian knows what they will do to him to loosen his tongue.

A small smile trembles over his face.

"I know you won't—" he swallows, and Cassian realizes the sound he's been hearing and couldn't identify before it's not a buzz, it's Valens wheezing as he tries to breathe, "find a path… that's not…"

Cassian knows what he refers to. He pats him on the shoulder before shuffling to his feet. His eyes scan the horizon for a clearer path as thoroughly as he can with the impending danger and the adrenaline pulsing in his veins.

The clanking is ranging closer.

He's to find a way out of there quickly.

Their lives depend on it.

The safety of the Rebellion depends on it—

His heart misses a beat when he spots the narrow trail of smoothed tall grass and bent plants in the distance. He's about to turn, a smile of triumph tugging at his lips, when he hears it. The sound of someone choking on—

He screams in his own mind, too afraid to let the sound out and give himself away. But the scream tears his throat raw, and there's a sudden sting in his eyes as his throat constricts even further.

_"I am not going to leave you behind."_

_"I know you won't."_

The light's gone from Valens' grey eyes. They are but fixing a glassy stare on the sky above. The lapel of his chest pocket is turned over. The foam still sizzles on his parted lips.

Cassian runs.

* * *

 

"I believe her," the guardian says, his faith unwavering.

And Cassian's jaw clenches with the tension of several painful memories and lessons learned the hard way.

_"That's good to know."_

**Author's Note:**

> Cassian's too rational, too practical, and operates on the most logical and strategical course of action. I thought there must have been a time when that wasn't the case, when he was younger. And well, this story happened as I tried to fill in the blanks left by canon. Hope you've enjoyed the read, all things considering. I know, I am... evil. My poor boy T__T Thanks for reading!


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